Territory

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

In my small morning-walk

Part of the world

Water  puddled in

The harsh tracks of

Invaders long gone

Reaches for the winter sun

With lips of ice.

 

 

 

Overnight the frost has

Made stiff cells of the earth,

Powdered the speartips

Of grass and salted

The shoulders of broad leaves

Into a single, silently screaming scrum.

 

In another, far-removed

Ignorant-of-nature place

Politicians squabble, chatter and

Greed over territory like 

Opera villain magpies.

 

Can they be so unaware of the impact?

Why don’t they listen

To the falling?

Heed the fallen?

Is it too late?

Can we still rebuild the Dove Gate?

Use the Get out of Hell Card?

 

18/11/2012

 

 

The Violet Distance

In the violet distance

Sand eats the sun again;

Soon cold-rock peace

Will settle horizon’s disputes.

Bad-company hero

Told me (years ago)

The sky is burnin’.

I believe – in this

Desert land of faiths –

I begin to understand.

A little bit of desolation

Is desirable on

Access Action Strasse … and

Some minutes with angels

Will weave silk

For the soul.

 

14/10/2012